
A Sister of the Red Cross: A Tale of the South African War
But, after all, he did get there easily enough. He went there in the ordinary course; for when Kitty, in her shelter in one of the caves, had seen lines of shadowy figures stealing past in the darkness, although she knew it not, one of these figures belonged to Major Strause. He, with a contingent of Light Infantry and three companies of the Devon Regiment, had marched out in the hope of making a last sortie against the enemy. The immediate results, so far as this story is concerned, were as follows: —
Early the next day Major Strause was sent to Intombi, a dangerously-wounded man. Both legs were hopelessly shattered, and there was nothing for it but amputation. He was taken into one of the tents, which, as it happened, contained no other occupant at the time. The surgeons immediately put him under chloroform, and quickly performed their work. When the operation was over he was relieved from pain. He was given champagne, and even laughed as he drank it. He said he was free from all suffering.
There was a peculiar expression on his face, a sort of change – a lightness as well as a brightness. The surgeons looked at one another, and then they went out of the tent and whispered in the passage outside. They did not like the soldier's manner. Very few people survived double amputation. He must remain very quiet. What nurse could be spared to look after him?
Just as they were talking in this way, the small new sister of the Red Cross appeared in sight. She was refreshed by her sleep, and although she was very much dazed and puzzled, there was a new strength about her face. One of the surgeons called her at once.
"I do not know you," he said. "What is your name?"
The girl thought for a minute; then she said boldly, —
"Sister Kitty."
"Sister Kitty?" said the doctor.
"Yes, sister of Nurse Mollie."
"Ah," he said, "if you are anything like her, you are indeed welcome to Intombi! Can you undertake a case now – at once?"
Kitty longed to say, "No," but it was useless. She could not be at Intombi without taking up her appointed work.
"I will do anything you like," she said.
"It is a serious case," said the surgeon, dropping his voice. "There is a man in there who in all probability won't live long. There is also, of course, a vague hope that he may recover. Everything practically depends on his nurse. He must be kept cheerful but very quiet. He will want some one to be with him all the time, in case of hemorrhage setting in."
"What sort of case is it?" said Kitty.
"The man's legs were shattered. We have been obliged to perform double amputation. Come this way, nurse; there is no time to lose."
The doctor drew aside a curtain, and ushered Kitty into the tent where Major Strause was lying. He saw her, and uttered a quick exclamation. Kitty saw him, and every vestige of colour left her face.
"Why, you know each other!" said the surgeon, in some astonishment.
"Yes," said Major Strause swiftly. "Of all the nurses in the camp this young lady you have brought to me can be most useful. I want to say something to her. For mercy's sake, leave us for a little time, Dr. Watson."
The doctor gave one or two very brief directions to Kitty, and left the tent. As soon as he had done so, Major Strause called her to his side.
"Stoop down, little girl," he said.
Kitty bent over him. Then she remembered the words she had heard the day before, and started back.
"I can't nurse you," she said.
"Why not?"
"Because – I did not know what you were; but I know now."
"What do you know, little girl?"
"I cannot tell you."
The major looked full at her.
"Never mind what you know," he said, after a pause. "Do you see that champagne bottle? Fill me out half a glass. I have a sinking sensation; I am not accustomed to it. Hold the wine to my lips."
Kitty was forced to obey. The major sipped the stimulant slowly. Then he said with a sigh, —
"That has done me good. But what were the doctors saying? I heard them whispering outside."
"They said you were very ill," replied Kitty.
"I should rather think I am – both legs gone at a crash! Nothing but the stump of the old major for the future. Hoped I could retrieve my position. Felt nearly mad last night – thought that nothing mattered – wanted to get to Intombi, and could not. Have reached Intombi. Well, the curtain closes here, and perhaps it is best. I say, little girl, how did you run the gauntlet of the enemy?"
"I came in the ambulance train," said Kitty.
"A good thought. Very plucky. Why did you come?"
"To save Mollie. And I think," added Kitty, and a wild light filled her eyes, and she looked full at the major's flushed and yet paling face – "I think God is saving her."
"From me?"
"Yes."
"You are right. It was a plucky thing of you to do. Tell me something else."
"What?"
"Do the doctors think I will recover?"
"I – don't – know."
"Speak, child; do you think I am afraid? Speak out."
"They – "
"Speak out."
"They think that you are in – "
"Danger?"
"Yes."
"I believe them," reiterated the major. "A man rarely gets over this sort of operation. I have seen enough of it since I came to Ladysmith. Well, we must all join the great majority some time, and I suppose my turn has come."
Kitty was silent. She did not like the major enough even to give him false hope. She stood by the bedside, and the grey look crept up and up the dying soldier's face. He lay very still, his eyes staring straight before him.
"Sit down," he said at last.
The little figure dropped into a seat near the foot of the bed.
"You dislike me very much?" he said then.
"I – hate you," answered the girl.
There was another silence.
"It seems wrong to hate a poor chap who is dying, and who, after all, has given his life for his country," said the major then.
Kitty was silent.
"I would rather die without a woman in my presence who hates me," he said, after a pause.
"Shall I go?" said Kitty, rising.
"No. Bad as you are, you are better than no one; and I must have stimulants. I say, a little more champagne."
Kitty filled up the glass again. He sipped it.
"It doesn't seem to pull me round," he said then. "I want brandy; champagne is not strong enough. Do you know what it is, little girl, to sink?"
"No," said Kitty.
"Don't you? – to sink right through the tent, and through the ground beneath? That's what I feel. I am slipping, slipping over the brink. That is it – slipping over the brink, little girl. How dark it is getting! Why don't you come near me? Can you hate a dying soldier who has given his life for his country?"
"No," said Kitty, and she suddenly burst into tears. When her tears came she fell forward against the soldier's bed, and took hold of one of his hands and laid her cheek against it.
"No; forgive me," she said. "I – don't – hate you any longer."
Her words troubled the major; a new look came into his face.
"If you forgive me, little Kitty," he said, "I wonder if God Almighty will?"
"Let's ask Him," said Kitty.
She began there and then to pray.
"Dear Lord God in heaven, forgive Major Strause. He is a very bad man, and he is going to die."
"That's it, Kitty," said the major, "put it strong."
"A very bad man," repeated Kitty, "and he is about to die, but he is – sorry."
"That's it, Kitty," said the major again. "Put it stronger."
"He is very sorry," repeated Kitty.
There was a silence. Kitty's head dropped against the bed. The major breathed quick and hard.
"Where's your sister?" he said suddenly.
"You can't see her," cried Kitty.
"I must."
The girl sprang to her feet.
"You can't."
"One minute, little Kitty. If you will help me, we will both do something. I think we have done wrong in the past – you in your way, I in mine. But while your sins are comparatively venial, mine – O mercy! I seem to see his dying face, and he is reproaching me. It is poor Aylmer. Tell him to get away. He scares me. I did not think that I could be scared; but he looks at me, and he scares me. – I'll put it right, Aylmer; yes, I'll put it right. – Kitty, you must help me. You and I together, little girl, can put everything right."
"What do you mean?" said Kitty.
She trembled all over, but still she kept herself in check.
"Listen, child. There are two people whom you and I have done all that man and woman could to part. Suppose, now, I give them back to one another; suppose you give them back. I restore them with my death, and you with your life. How does that sound? Do you think you can do your part if I do mine?"
"I don't know."
"You have no time to think. Be quick. If you will do it, I will do it."
The major's eyes began to shine with fever.
"Be quick," he said. "I believe you will do it. Fetch Sister Mollie." And Kitty went.
Sister Mollie was indeed busy, for every tent in the hospital was full. If Major Strause survived another hour, soldiers would be brought to share his tent with him; but the surgeons had implored for an hour or two of perfect quiet in a case of so much danger. Kitty, with her white face and her startled eyes, rushed to her sister's side.
"Let them all go, let them all go!" she said. "It is life or death. Come at once – at once!"
"Yes, go, Sister Mollie; I will look after the cases," said another capable-looking nurse who stood near.
Mollie glanced at Kitty, read she knew not what in her eyes, and went with her.
"What are they firing about? what is the excitement?" said Mollie suddenly.
She stopped; then she ran to the door. Kitty ran with her.
"Why, what is it?" she said. "Who are those soldiers? Not Boers. No, our men, and galloping! No horses in Ladysmith have galloped for many days. O Kitty, Kitty, what does it mean?"
"I don't know," said Kitty. "But come; it is a case of life or death."
A wild, tremendous, all-inspiriting cheer burst at this moment on the air, and the galloping horses came nearer, and the sick men who were able to move in the hospital raised their languid heads, and the orderlies and doctors shouted, and even the nurses came out, as Lord Dundonald, with a small body of mounted troops, made a dash across the hills, and passed Intombi on his way to Ladysmith.
"'Lift up your heads; for your redemption draweth nigh,'" said Mollie.
She looked at Kitty, but Kitty had scarcely heard the words.
"Quick! quick!" she cried; "there is something to be done – something for you and something for him." And she led Mollie to the tent where Major Strause lay dying.
"What is that noise?" said the major; "a fresh battle, eh?"
"Relief! relief!" cried Mollie.
"The relief of – death?"
"The relief of life," said Mollie. "Lord Dundonald has just ridden past on his way to Ladysmith."
The major looked dimly round him.
"It is quite dark," he said. "I do – not seem – to – understand. I can scarcely see – your face. Are you really Mollie Hepworth?"
"Yes," she answered.
"Stoop down – come very close; I should like to look at you once again. You promised, on certain conditions, to marry me?"
"I did."
"Come still closer. Now I can see your face; yes, thank God, in my dying moments I can see it. It is good and strong, and like that of an angel – an archangel. Did you mean your words, archangel?"
"Yes."
"Thank God for that too. You, of all women on God's earth, could have made a good man of me, and for you alone on my death-bed I repent. Listen. The story I told you about Keith was false as hell. I wanted money, and I thought I could blackmail him, and I seemed to see my way when Aylmer was reported to be in danger. It was I who changed the medicines. I put a wrong label on each bottle. Little Kitty here is witness, and you are witness. I was at the bottom of that dastardly plot. It was I who caused the death of Aylmer. Keith is one of the best fellows living – yes, Mollie, one of the best; and take him, take him as your husband, for little Kitty and I give him to you."
"Yes, Major Strause and I give him to you," said Kitty, and she fell forward against the bed.
The major looked at her, and then he looked at Mollie, and he smiled and tried to put out his hand through the darkness to clasp Mollie's.
"The only good woman – I ever knew," he whispered once.
His hand relaxed its hold. He was dead.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
"HE THAT LOSETH HIS LIFE SHALL FIND IT."
Three months afterwards, in a London church there was a brief ceremony. A man and woman stood before the altar, and were united in the bonds of matrimony. The man had the proud carriage of a soldier, and bore the gallant distinction of V.C., won for valour in the fight, after his name. The woman owned that greatest badge that any woman could wear, the Red Cross, bestowed upon her by the sovereign of the land.
The words which were to make them one for all time were spoken, and they turned away, husband and wife at last. Standing a little way off, a bright colour in her cheeks, an intense light in her eyes, was a girl who resembled the bride, and yet did not resemble her. Another girl was also present; she was watching this slight and delicate girl's face with a mixture of admiration and pain. The bride and bridegroom, in many ways the most unselfish pair in the world, were for the time so absorbed in each other that they did not notice Kitty as Katherine Hunt noticed her.
They started on their wedding journey straight from the church, and those few guests who were invited to drink their healths at Mrs. Keith's house returned there. Last in the group came Kitty and Katherine Hunt.
"And now, Kitty, you will do it?" said Katherine Hunt, and she took both Kitty's hands in one of her own.
"Yes," said Kitty, "if you wish it."
"My father has bequeathed to me a large fortune, which I may spend during his lifetime as I think fit. My present intention is to start convalescent homes here and there over England – convalescent homes where brave soldiers, commissioned and non-commissioned, can get comforts, and healing, and rest. I want you to take the management of one, and I will take the management of another. You can do it, and you will be happy in doing it, and many soldiers from the Transvaal will soon fill the comfortable rooms, and enjoy themselves in the fresh air. Those who can pay shall pay a trifle, but those who cannot pay shall come without money, and all shall be honoured guests. And you, little Kitty, will be the sunbeam in the house which you will rule."
"But I am unfit to rule," said Kitty.
"I don't think that," replied Katherine. "Things will be made smooth for you. You have conquered so bravely in another instance – "
"Don't speak of it," said Kitty. She coloured, and clasped her hands very tightly. "I have not really conquered," she said in a low voice. "I feel – "
"We won't talk of feelings to-day," said Katherine. "I think you have conquered. And surely 'he that ruleth himself is better than he that taketh a city.' Mrs. Keith must let you come back with me to-night; there is much to discuss."
So Kitty and Katherine went back to Katherine's beautiful home in Bayswater together, and long into the night they talked and made their plans, and when Kitty laid her head on her pillow she was too tired to keep awake. The next day the first thought that came to her was the life-work which she had undertaken: for Katherine Hunt was a very rich woman, and when she undertook things, she did them on a princely scale; and Katherine in her own heart had decided that if Kitty had denied herself, she would be the means of placing her in a fuller and richer life than she had ever dreamt of when she selfishly tried to absorb the life of the man who did not love her.
Thus all things came well, and Kitty, although the convalescent homes are only just started, is once again a happy woman.
THE END